


To Claim a Jaybird

by badlifechoices



Series: Bottom Jason Todd Week 2020 [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Arkham - All Media Types
Genre: Implied/Referenced Torture, Jason Todd Has PTSD, Jealousy, M/M, Not Beta Read, Referenced Pining, Scars, Slade is actually a good guy, better safe than sorry, i swear ill take a look at it like at some point, not because there's any actual rape happening, tagging as rape because there's hints at it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:28:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25852873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badlifechoices/pseuds/badlifechoices
Summary: The more he watched Jason sharpen himself from the whimpering, tormented prisoner into a deadly weapon, the more he felt the desire to wield him. Sure, if they succeeded in their mission, it would certainly benefit his paycheck greatly and he would get the chance to take out more than one valuable target in the process but if he was honest, the true reason he followed the Arkham Knight to Gotham was because he wanted him.
Relationships: Jason Todd/Slade Wilson
Series: Bottom Jason Todd Week 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1872748
Comments: 6
Kudos: 165
Collections: Bottom Jason Todd Week 2020





	To Claim a Jaybird

**Author's Note:**

> Okok this is my first SladeJay story, so I apologise for any ooc-ness or any of that. (let me know how badly i fucked lmao) Secondly, I couldn't think of a title so I just threw something in there OTL

He found the boy in Arkham. 

Slade had had no idea what he would find, when he received the anonymous tip about a high value target on the famous prison island in Gotham. He only knew that whoever sent the tip also added a very generous payment on top of it, so it didn’t particularly matter, whether it was the truth or not. 

Getting in was easy enough, so was making it past the Joker’s goons. He’d always had a great amount of distaste for Gotham’s clown prince of crime, as they called him. Too messy, too obsessed with the Batman to be of any use. Not to mention the carnage he usually left behind, which was exactly how Slade didn’t operate.

While it didn’t break his heart to kill someone who got in his way, he usually preferred not to cause too much collateral damage. Killing innocent civilians didn’t give him any kind of thrill. It was neither much of a challenge, nor did it fill his bank account, so there was really no point to it, in his eye.

He’s not particularly keen on facing the Joker directly and he has enough intel to avoid it. It’s just not worth the hassle. His mission is to get in, grab whatever bounty he’s looking for and get the fuck out again. And Slade Wilson never fails his missions. 

Dropping from one of the catwalks onto the ground, he punches a couple numbers into the keypad next to the door, keeping an eye on the virtual map on his phone. With the satellite infrared footage, it’s easy enough to avoid detection. Having expensive toys really makes the game almost comfortably easy. And without the Bat getting in his way, this is practically a cakewalk. 

While he doesn’t know why Batman is avoiding this place like the plague these days, he’s not exactly complaining. Who cares what’s going on in the guy’s head, as long as he can complete his task in peace. 

The door slides open and he’s caught entirely off guard by what he sees. He’s grateful for the night vision tech in his cowl because it allows him to spot the figure in the corner immediately. Taking a step forward, he notices the smell, blood mixing with grime and other nasty things that he considers tell-tale signs of a hostage that is being left to rot between sessions of torture. 

It doesn’t shock him, when he sees the torn and tattered costume. It’s unmistakable: The cape hanging in shreds from slumped shoulders, the remnants of the bright red and the iconic  **R** that has been pinned to the skin to keep it in place. He sucks in a harsh breath and the boy in the corner flinches, ducking his head to hide it between his arms. 

Whatever he expected to find here,  _ this _ was certainly not it. He takes a moment to eye the captured bird, gaze travelling from the swollen ankles along the bruised legs and hips. His skin is covered in dirt and dried blood, trickles of red giving away fresh wounds and Slade doesn’t need to look closely to know some of them are already festering. 

The boy-  _ Robin - _ is bound tightly, ropes cutting into arms and legs and a thick blindfold covers half of his face, leaving him completely helpless. 

The mercenary takes a step towards the figure in the corner and the boy immediately shifts again, pressing himself into the corner with a scared whimper. There’s no resemblance to the brash, wild kid he’s encountered before. Nothing left of the bravery and arrogance that used to bleed from his cocky taunts and energetic fighting style before. 

“Please-” the voice is raspy and broken, a desperate plea that echoes from the high walls of the room. “I’ll be good, I promise.” 

His phone gives a little ping, the map showing a small red dot moving towards them. Time to go. Slade crosses the distance between them in an instance, ignoring the boy’s weak attempts to fight him off. He’s not sure what makes him lean in to remove the blindfold before picking him up. There’s no way the other can scream loud enough to draw any attention, not with the rattling in his every breath. So, he has no need to make the other believe he’s rescuing him. 

Slade decides not to worry about that right now, as he carries the boy out of the room and into the long hallway. Neither does he try to figure out why his chest aches ever so slightly, when Robin shifts to wrap his weak arms around Slade’s neck, hiding the bruised face against his chest. 

  
  


\---

  
  


Patching the boy up was no easy job. Aside from the physical damage, the Joker had carved massive wounds into his -  _ Jason’s _ \- mind. And hell, if Slade was any good at playing therapist for anyone, much less a broken bird whose presence alone could get him dragged to hell, if the Bat found out about it. 

But Batman didn’t come looking for them and while Slade still wasn’t sure exactly why he decided to keep the boy, he couldn’t help but feel bad for him. Being abandoned was never a pleasant feeling, but being left in the hands of an enemy, especially one as twisted and psychopathic as the Joker? Yeah, he could imagine why Jason’s whole body tensed every time someone as much as mentioned the dark knight. 

Maybe it was because he saw what incredible potential the former sidekick had, but he ended up sticking around even after the superficial wounds had healed. There was something about Jason that made him curious to see just how far the boy would go in his need for vengeance. He saw the longing and hurt in the other’s eyes, knew exactly what kind of feeling Jason had harboured for his former mentor. He had no desire to get involved with the boy’s broken heart but Slade wanted to see what he did with it. 

\--- 

Jason Todd weaponised it. 

  
  


Slade watched as the boy crawled out from the dark abyss he’d been thrown into, heart filled with rage and a strength that many others would envy. There was never any doubt as to his skill but seeing him pick up all those things Batman didn’t teach him and master them in no time made a strange hunger spread in Slade’s mind. 

The more he watched Jason sharpen himself from the whimpering, tormented prisoner into a deadly weapon, the more he felt the desire to wield him. Sure, if they succeeded in their mission, it would certainly benefit his paycheck greatly and he would get the chance to take out more than one valuable target in the process but if he was honest, the true reason he followed the Arkham knight to Gotham was because he  _ wanted _ him.

Slade was no stranger to desire or greed and he had tasted love before as well. But this sensation was different: It was a strange combination of things, instincts mingling with thought in a volatile concoction that left him with an overwhelming hunger.

  
  
  


\---

Watching the Arkham Knight lay waste to the city, did nothing to make him regret his decision. On the contrary, he thoroughly enjoyed the sight. Jason wasn’t one to let chaos rule, he didn’t believe in doing as much collateral damage as possible. His takeover was precise, planned to the very last step and he seemed to complete the task with ease, that so many supervillains struggled with: Outplaying the Batman. 

Slade wondered how it would feel to have someone who knew him as thoroughly, as Jason knew the city’s dark protector. Terrifying, most likely. And the best part was, that the big guy didn’t even know who the man behind the mask was. For a genius, he was rather slow to catch on. 

There was a part of him that burned with jealousy, every time he listened to the boy talk about Batman, a part that forced him to follow the Arkham Knight whenever he headed out to confront the hero. Never getting too close, he would take position on one of the rooftops, watching through the scope of a rifle. 

Jason was  _ his _ . Slade was the one who found him, the one who patched him up and stood watch through his sleepless nights, reassuring the boy that his tormentor would never lay a hand on him ever again. He was the one who saw him through the worst of the worst, a place no human being should be made to wander, not Batman. Batman was the one who had left him behind, never even returning to search for a body. 

The closer they got to completing their objective, the more he wanted,  _ needed _ , the other. But between fighting the Bat at every turn and paving the road for Scarecrow to enact his own maniacal plan, there was no time to stake his claim. He could be patient, he reminded himself. Once the boy had had his chance to take down Batman once and for all, that would be the time to make his move. 

  
  


\---

  
  


Slade didn’t need to ask any questions, when the boy returned. His armour was shattered in places, helmet abandoned but the blood red bat on his chest spoke volumes about what occurred. 

“You didn’t kill him,” he stated and he could see the way Jason’s shoulders slumped, as though the other wasn’t entirely sure if he regretted his decisions or not. 

“I saved him,” came the response after a long pause. “From Crane.” 

Jason’s gaze flickered across the maps pinned to the walls, the pages of intel and red strings connecting key points of interests and for the first time in forever, Slade couldn’t decipher the expression on his face. He’d gotten good at reading the boy, too good, considering he had claimed just days ago that he wasn’t interested in pursuing a relationship with him. 

But here he was, chest bubbling with burning jealousy. Without realising, he took a step forward, reaching out to drag his hand along the red symbol on Jason’s chest. Batman’s symbol or close enough to it. He clenched his teeth, unable to stop himself from wrapping his other hand around the boy’s throat. “You gonna go back to him now? Go back to being a sidekick?” 

Blue eyes met his own, unafraid and yet they lacked the spark, the challenging defiance they usually carried. The sight drew a low growl from Slade’s throat. No. He wasn’t letting the boy go that easily, wouldn’t allow Batman to ruin all that self assured strength the kid built up over the last years. Neither was he going to let the man, who was in great parts responsible for the state he found Jason in, just waltz in and take away what was  _ his.  _

The boy didn’t flinch, when the grip around his throat tightened and Slade pushed him backwards until his back hit the wall. There was no resistance, when he leaned in until their lips were mere inches apart. “Are you?” 

Jason swallowed, gaze breaking away from his for a second, as though uncertain how to respond. “He’s gone,” he finally murmured and the tone of his voice made Slade’s blood boil.  _ Fuck. _ He wanted to claim the boy right here and then, take what he had waited for until there was no doubt left on the other’s mind who he should be with. 

But that could ruin all of this. Would probably push Jason away and that was the exact opposite of what he wanted. Eye narrowed, he watched the younger for a moment, before he asked: “You gonna follow him?” 

At that, the other looked up at him and there was finally a hint of that spark that Slade enjoyed so much. “I’m not his lapdog,” he snapped. “I’m not following orders anymore.”

That makes the older man’s lips curl into a sly smile. “I see. Now what could you possibly want from me, now that you’re back in the bat clan? You could’ve been twenty miles down the coast already but instead you decided to come back  _ to me. _ ” 

And finally, those blood crusted lips twitched, a dark eyebrow raising. “What do you think?”

“I think-” Slade purred, moving in closer until the other was sandwiched tightly between him and the wall, only the pesky armour in the way of their bodies actually making contact. “That you need a reminder, who you belong to.” 

The younger man didn’t look the slightest bit surprised. Of course not, the kid was better at reading people than most psychics were. It made him wonder how obvious he was about his pining. Not that he was ever going to admit to just how patiently he did wait for this opportunity. Because that would only paint him as some kind of sappy romantic, which he most certainly wasn’t. He simply preferred his partners to have a mind of their own and not be brainwashed and fresh out of the torture chamber. 

Before he could finish the thought, he felt something against his lips, a touch that was almost too gentle, insecure and for a second he realised that he could just as well be the kid’s  _ first. _

He didn’t follow that idea however, too busy, getting his hands into the other’s soft hair and pulling him in roughly. What was a timid kiss only seconds ago turned into something entirely, hunger and lust taking over as their mouths clashed over and over. The coppery taste of blood hit him, as his teeth scraped along the boy’s split lip and he couldn’t deny the sudden urge to to bite down. 

Jason grunted in return, his hands coming up to grip the taller man’s arms, digging his fingertips into the solid muscle. Not needing any additional encouragement past the way the boy pushed into him like his life depended on it, Slade pulled at the soft hair between his fingers, forcing Jason to tilt his head back. Hunger tearing at his insides, his teeth trailed along the exposed neck, relishing the taste of salt on smooth skin. 

His thumb brushed over the brand on the other’s cheek, a reminder of torture that he couldn’t get rid of. But it was no symbol of ownership, none that mattered anyway. Slade made a mental note to leave as many marks on that sweet body as he could, leaving his own claim in plain view for anyone to see who dared to come close enough. The thought made his dick twitch in anticipation, the fabric of his pants already tenting. 

Begrudgingly, he pulled back, pushing the palm of his hand against his crotch to rub against the hardness. “Get off the armor,” he commanded, feeling a rush of satisfaction, when the other followed the order without hesitation. 

Talented hands made quick work of the hidden buckles and releases that allowed the boy to slip out of the handcrafted armour, revealing the muscular yet lean figure hidden underneath. And maybe Slade should send the Bat a “thank you” card for the work he did in training the boy in the first place, though he had no desire to find himself hunted by the whole clan for snatching up their youngest. Not that any of them had any right to the boy. 

“Strip,” was his next order and his eye caught the way Jason’s tongue flicked out to taste his lips, his expression one that mirrored the same hunger that was burning in Slade’s veins. 

Again, the other moved to obey immediately, peeling himself out of the skintight leggings and shirt that kept the armour from digging into his skin. His body was bruised, bearing clear marks from his encounter with the Bat. Slade followed the criss crossing pattern of scars with his gaze, lingered on the burn marks and remnants of messy stitches. Where hardly any spot was left unmarred, he couldn’t find any flaw and his body moved almost instinctively, as he stepped up to the younger man. 

Hands reaching out, he didn’t waste a second before exploring what he had been lusting for. He could feel the boy’s heat even through his own clothes, as they connected, bodies finally pressing together as though they were designed for it. 

Slade didn’t even care about moving their endeavours to the bedroom, he simply maneuvered the other towards the table. Pulling off his shirt, he left it on the floor, where it was soon joined by a mess of files and weapon plans that had previously occupied the table. “Up,” he simply said, his voice rough with the sheer intensity of the desire flooding his mind. 

There were no thoughts left on his mind and another time he would’ve considered going slow and teasing the boy until he was begging for it. But right now, he didn’t have the patience. Hell, he barely had the willpower to grab the lube and condom from his duffel bag, before pushing Jason’s knees apart and bringing their hips together. 

His hand found the other’s dick, wrapped around the slender organ and squeezed it hard enough to have the boy gasp, his ankles hooking behind Slade’s back. Blue eyes darkened with need found his gaze and drew him in until he was leaning over the other, their tongues tangled in a desperate dance. 

Pushing his other hand between them, Slade slid a lubed up finger into Jason’s entrance, enjoying the way, he shivered in return. “Too much?” It was more of a rhetorical question with the way Jason moved his hips to meet him. 

“Fuck no-” The boy licked his lips, already glistening with saliva and ever so slightly kiss-swollen. “Get a move on, old man, before I-” He didn’t get to finish the sentence, before Slade pushed two more fingers in, spreading him open with a growl that sent all kinds of delightful shivers down the boy’s spine. 

Slade moves his fingers carefully, making sure to spread him open thoroughly because he had no desire to cause the younger man unnecessary pain. At least not this kind. 

Breathing heavily, Jason was leaning back, his thighs trembling and delicious gasps falling from his lips every time, Slade brushed over his sweet spot. “Hurry…” 

Chuckling, the older man bent his fingers, making sure to push deeper than before. “Another word and I’m gonna fuck you for real, kid,” he warned, taking in the sight before him with a hint of admiration. With his skin sweat slick, he was glistening in the artificial light, shadows playing around his muscles perfectly and then there was that flushed face. 

“Fuck you.” 

Slade growled, pulling out his fingers and pushing down his pants. “I warned you-” he murmured, rolling on the condom with ease. And before the other could say anything else, he moved his hips, guiding himself into the tight heat with one, slow stroke. Instinctively, his hands moved to grab Jason’s hips, forcing himself to give the boy time to adjust to the intrusion. 

Leaning in, he moved to brush their lips together, enjoying the way, Jason trembled beneath him, as he began to move. It had been a while since he’d had any action and he could definitely tell from the way every thrust made his stomach tighten, threatening to push him over the edge all too soon. 

Jason felt amazing, the tight heat gripping him just right, clinging to him, whenever he pulled and welcoming him when he pushed back in. 

“C’mon… aah- stop holding back, old man…” The boy’s words were a taunt in his ears, pushing him to give up the last bit of his carefully maintained control. His fingers dug into Jason’s hips hard enough to bruise, holding him still as he snapped his hips forward harshly. “Fuuck-” 

Relishing in the reaction, Slade allowed himself to let go, his rhythm speeding up as he nailed the boy down with powerful strokes that made the desk creak underneath them. It didn’t take long for him to find the perfect angle that allowed him to hit the other’s prostate with every thrust, relishing the way Jason moaned in response. And damn, the sounds that boy made were on par with that of a pornstar, not to mention the wriggle of his hips and the bedroom eyes that were nearly enough to drive Slade insane. 

Feeling himself closing in on his limit, he grabbed Jason’s dick, stroking him roughly in tune to their thrusts until the boy was falling apart beneath him, groaning loudly and coating his own stomach with a stream of white. 

Slade let his head fall back, tormented by the way the already tight walls squeezed him, as he chased his own release. “Fuck, Jason…” He buried his face in the boy’s neck when he came, one hand buried in his soft curls, the other still holding onto his hip. 

“See, that’s better,” Jason murmured, his voice as relaxed as the rest of his body. “Better than “kid” at least.” 

Slade hummed, pushing himself up on his hands to peer down at the younger man. “What about “sweetheart”?” 

Jason scowled. “Fuck you.” 

The response only served to make Slade smirk. “Again? Even with superhuman stamina you’ll have to give me a minute, kid.” 


End file.
